One day, I was in a pub, drinking and impressing the ladies. Pubs are great, you know? They are incredible places for men like myself to show off how… well, manly we are. Anyway, a beautiful lady came stumbling into the bar. “Please help me!” she cried. “A troll has taken my friend!” Of course, being the, above all, just amazing person that I am, I rushed over to her. “What is wrong my lady?” I asked.“I was taking a leisurely stroll in the mountains with my friend. Suddenly, a troll jumped out from behind a rock and grabbed us both, one in each hand. He brought us both to his cave and tied us both up. I managed to struggle loose while he was gone, but my friend wasn’t able to. I don’t have much to give you, but the troll had a pile of gold. You could take that. Please, save my friend!” Well, long story short, I trekked up the mountain, killed the troll with its own club, and got both the money and the girl. Then I went back to the pub and stayed there all night, buying everyone rounds. Before I realized it, the money I had earned was gone, and I was completely drunk. Still, that was one of the best nights of my life, even if I can barely remember any of it now.

"400 miles separate them, yes. I am not sure how far the strong winds over the Star Mounts drove us west."

"Is that a problem?" asked Szordrin.

"I do not think so," explained Leokas. "Unless we were driven all the way as west as Waterdeep, which I highly doubt, we shall still have to pass over the Dragon Neck Peninsula. We can have Solisar adjust the magical winds to drive us a bit to the southeast just in case, but we will not be able to miss the peninsula; it juts out for hundreds of miles on all the maps I have ever seen."

"The peninsula is one thing," said Hakam. "I am doubting whether we can pinpoint Sseth's lair."

That morning, Hakam had messaged the brass dragon and announced that they were to be visiting him within the next several days. Despite two separate sendings, Hakam had failed to receive clear directions from Sseth, because of Sseth's lengthy exclamations of how delightful it would be for him to meet everyone again.

"I am going to tell him to meet us five miles due north of Teshburl instead," said Hakam.

~~~~

More than 24 hours passed, and they were still floating high over open ocean. Szrodrin began to doubt Leokas' navigation skills.

"Baldur's Gate is over 400 miles north of Tethyr," Leokas said. "We do not travel that distance in a day, and we know that we were northwest of Baldur's Gate when we first reached the ocean. It is not surprising that we have not seen the peninsula yet."

"What happens if we pass it by mistake tonight?"

"That would be a problem," Leokas admitted. "When I am on the helm again, I shall lower us back down to a mile above the surface. With Belvin's enhanced vision, I think we should be able to see if we are passing over land, even in the dark. Besides, there will be plenty of light; it is the full moon tonight. It is, after all, the last day of the year, the way you humans tell time."

Kytharrah and Ilthian were fascinated by the idea of the year "changing", once it was explained to them. Ilthian was not ignorant of a cycle of years, but her people did not keep track of when one started or ended in an official way; they had no calendar. Kytharrah, having lived his whole life underground, had no concept of a year at all. Days, with the "guiding light" coming and going in an endless cycle, were confusing enough as it was.

Those living on the surface of Faerûn, however, knew from an early age, by various songs and other memorization tools, the "roll of years" in both directions for a good number of decades. It was the last day of the Year of Wild Magic. The Year of Rogue Dragons was about to begin.

"Why do the years have names?" Ilthian asked. "Why do they not have numbers? They are, after all, simply a count of time."

"They also have numbers," said Hakam, "but no one agrees on where to start counting. In Calimshan, tomorrow will begin year number fifteen of the tenth age. In Tethyr it will be year 1,587. For people living in a place called the Dalelands, it will be year 1,373. Most of the people of Faerûn use the way of counting of the Dalelands in addition to their own way, but it is actually far simpler if everyone agrees on giving the year a name. For example, I do not know how the elves of Solisar's home count the years."

"Elves who do not interact often with humans do not count years," said Leokas. "A year is a small time for an elf, remember."

"Whoever they are," said Szordrin, "I hope that we do not have to deal with them; we have enough to concern ourselves with."

~~~~

To their relief, on the morning of the first of Hammer, New Year's Day, they passed over the Dragon Neck Peninsula, a thickly forested narrow stretch of land, which was part of the kingdom of Tethyr.

"One month ago we were leaving Hartsvale," said Leokas, having just come off his shift at the helm.

"And one year ago, you and I first met, my friend," said Belvin, recalling their chance meeting in the Forest of Mir, when they immediately found themselves in battle with a small band of goblins.

Solisar was at the helm, and he caused the ship to hover. Kytharrah and Belvin worked together to adjust the sails as best they could so that when Solisar drove the ship forward again, it would turn to port. It took about twenty minutes to get themselves angled in the direction that they wanted and then another twenty minutes to return the sails to their original position so that they could press forward at this new heading.

There was still a long distance to travel. Later that day they passed over another, shorter peninsula, the Starspire Peninsula, which was mountainous. It, too, was a part of Tethyr. Leokas estimated that it was still 100 miles from this peninsula to Calimport.

The next day, they reached land again, a wilderness of sand — the Calim Desert. Now, the path was clear — they simply had to keep the coast to the port side and they would eventually reach the Teshburl. However, this meant several slow and annoying stops to adjust the sails. This led to them discussing what options they might have for hiring sailors once they arrived in Teshburl. Hakam, in particular, was not comfortable with hiring just anyone. In any case, they were still at least a day a way from Teshburl.

"Keep an eye out for the blue dragon," Leokas warned Belvin, for it was along this coast that Yrevkethend's lair was located.

They saw no dragons over the next two days, however. At highsun, on the third day of the year, they could spot what they guessed was the port of Teshburl from the sky, now approximately twenty-five miles to the north of them. The journey had taken about five and half days in total.

Hakam prayed for ten minutes for the power to send a message to Sseth that they had arrived and would meet him in about three hours five miles north of the port town.

"I think that I have taken ill," Sseth answered in Hakam's mind. "I regret that I will not be able to meet. Perhaps you could come to my lair instead."

Something happened. I do not understand, but I can no longer make things jump. Solisar thinks that the goddess of magic has taken away my power. I do not think that that is fair. Hakam says that my people, the forokell, must not be aloud to use magic. Why are the gods not fair?

I also feel proud because I can do magic now. Well, I can only do one trick, as Kytharrah calls it. I can make nereby objects jump. Kytharrah and I have been playing a new game where I make something in the room jump, and he tries to grab it before it stops moving.

I am going to start using this journal to record what new things I learn about magic.

Obzervation 1:I can only make something jump if it is closer to me than about 25 feet. I made something jump at 26 feet 1 time in 10 that I tried. I made it jump 7 times out of 10 at 25 feet, and I made it jump at 24 feet 9 times out of ten. I can always do it when it is close to me now.

Obzervation 2:I can only make something jump if it is about as hevie as Hakam's szord. I stacked some of the bars of monie on top of each other and tried to jump the one on the bottom. I can only jump the bottom one if the stack is no more than 5 bars high.

Obzervation 3:I can only make something jump if no one is holding it.

Obzervation 4:I can only make something jump if it is not a magical thing. Magical things feel like they are fiting against me.

The next morning, at dawn of the 28th of the month, Leokas looked over the deck railing to the endless forest now below them. (Solisar was now at the helm.) Belvin, having just finished his daily prayers, joined his friend.

"The Lost Peaks," said Leokas, pointing at two small mountains below. "I was friends with a centaur from there."

"Does it sadden you that we are flying over your home without a visit?" asked Belvin.

"We are elves;" said Leokas, "what is one year away but a wink in one's life?"

"Yet, surely the weights of moments are not all the same," said Belvin.

"I wonder when Mythlos and my mother will make it to the forest," said Leokas, changing the subject.

Belvin shrugged. Then he looked toward the bow and pointed. "Which mountains are those?"

On the horizon, some 100 miles ahead of them, they could see massive and steep snow-covered mountains bursting from the deeply forested land.

"The great Star Mounts," said Leokas. "Most of the mountains in that range are over 20,000 feet. I will go tell Solisar to increase our elevation to at least four miles."

"Cannot we simply fly around them, there to the west?"

"The helmsman cannot turn the vessel, remember. Steering requires adjustment to the sails, and as you know, it can take us an hour to do that properly. We would smash into them before that at this speed. It is far easier when sitting in the chair to raise the craft. We really need to find us some true sailors."

As Leokas turned to go, Hakam joined them, though he kept himself from the railing. "I received another message from Jayce," the cleric said. "He says that he has found Samber's former wife. She claims that she left Samber because he loved his work more than her."

Hakam continued, "There is more that I find far more interesting: Jayce says that the woman, Samber's ex-wife, looks like an older, Lantanna version of Ilthian. The woman has red hair instead of Ilthian's unnatural blue and lacks Ilthian's skin patterns. I am curious if others whom we met on Samber's island look like others in Samber's past."

"Did you ask him that?" said Leokas.

"I was not able to; the magic item he uses to communicate with us, can only send twice a tenday, if I understand correctly, and I did not prepare for such magic this morning."

~~~~

As the end of the day was approaching, they reached the foreboding, needle peaks of the Star Mounts. The winds were powerful here and began driving them to the west. The sails were not affected, nor could they feel any wind if they stood on deck, for they were within the protective cover of the magic bubble around the whole spelljammer. It was as if they were a ship in a bottle, and that bottle was being blown.

By dusk, the mountains were behind them, and they passed over the southern edge of the High Forest. Leokas informed them that the whole forest was about 300 miles long north to south. This meant that they were traveling between 380 and 390 miles per day. They still had almost 2,000 miles to go.

When morning came again, they were traveling over cleared plains and hills, and then at highsun, they reached the ocean, the Sea of Swords. Leokas did not know exactly where they were anymore, since he did not know how badly the winds about the Star Mounts had forced them off course. He knew that they must be somewhere between Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate, but at least 400 miles of coastland were between those two cities. Even so, the ranger was convinced that if they continued south over the Sea, they would eventually pass over the narrow Dragon Neck Peninsula of Tethyr, at which point they would stop, attempt to adjust the sails, and fly southeast toward Calimshan.

Later that day, when Leokas was at the helm, Szordrin and Solisar joined Kytharrah and Ilthian in her cabin, where the blue-haired maiden was helping the impatient minotaur write his letters.

"Ilthian," said the sun elf, "if you have a moment, Szordrin and I are curious about something. We were wondering if you would like me to teach you magic."

Ilthian beamed. "I would love to learn magic. I did not know that one even could learn magic."

"I am not certain that you can learn magic," said Solisar. "All races are different. Some, like Cassiera's people, for example, inherently have a connection to the Weave, while others seem barely affected by it and thus can have little influence over it. Szordrin and I are wondering which kind of people you and your kin are."

"What do I do?" she asked.

"Szordrin's wand will help you see the Weave with your own eyes." Solisar handed the delicate, pale wooden baton to her.

Kytharrah came over to see what was going on.

"Here, let me stand behind you and guide your hands," said Solisar. "When you wave a wand in this motion quickly, the wand 'listens' for a special 'command word'."

"Do you know how the strings of Mythlos' mandolin were tuned such that they each made specific sounds? A wand is something like that in reverse. Each wand is 'tuned' such that specific sounds activate the magic power stored inside."

"What happens when the wand is active? And what is this wand's special word?"

"Szordrin learned that this wand uses an ancient high elven phrase that means, 'Open my eyes.' I want you to wave the wand just like this and repeat after me."

Solisar guided her hand and spoke the short phrase. Ilthian continued the pattern of motion correctly and repeated the words. Then she gasped.

"Wand lessons are for those who finish their reading and writing lessons first," said Solisar.

"I brought you a wand too," said Szordrin, and he handed the minotaur a stick to hold. The deception seemed to work well enough, as Kytharrah was now swinging the stick around in an attempt to emulate Ilthian's motions.

"Now," said Solisar, "I want you to try to not look at Szordin but rather at the spaces between Szordrin and other things, such as the door or the jar of ink by your papers. What do you see? Try very hard to relax and concentrate."

"Focus on the jar," the tiefling continued. "Try to reach out to it with your mind. Will it to glow in the same way that I am."

"Little sister looks funny," said Kytharrah.

Indeed, Ilthian had a strained expression on her face as she struggled to make an arcane connection with the jar of ink.

"Do you see a glow now?" asked Solisar.

"Maybe a little bit; it is very faint."

"Remember how it feels in your mind. To perform magic, each spellcaster, like Szordrin and me, must make such a connection to the targets of our spells."

"Try to concentrate on the connection itself," said Szordrin. "Focus now on the space between the glowing ink jar and you yourself."

Ilthian grew excited. "I think I saw a new thread," she said, "but it flickered and then went out."

"You are learning this remarkably quickly," said Solisar.

"Say the word, 'jar'," said Szordrin.

"Jar. Oh, it flickered back again."

"The Weave connects everything," said Solisar, "every object, but also every sound and every thought and every concept. Simply speaking about a jar affects the connections of every jar in the area to the one thinking about a jar. In this way, even simple words can have power, once one learns the feel of how the Weave responds. This is why most spells involved 'magic' words."

"Jar, jar, jar," said Kytharrah, waving his twig around.

"Try to keep the thread visible," said Solisar.

"Jar,... jar...," Ilthian stopped verbalizing the word but was still mouthing it with her lips. "Oh," she said, "I can also feel a sort of sensation in my fingertips...."

"Try to will the thread to move," said Szordrin. "Watch the thread carefully to see how each word, thought, and motion you make affects the thread."

"I think I understand,... if I move my fingers like this,... jar,... jar,... Jar, move!" she shouted the last two words as a bold command, and yanked her hand back. A tiny speck of ink splashed from the ink jar, as if the liquid had boiled over or the jar had been bumped by something.